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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23621536">Alone Together</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackFen/pseuds/BlackFen'>BlackFen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sex Education (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Implied Sexual Content</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:29:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,211</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23621536</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackFen/pseuds/BlackFen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>While Jakob sleeps after a rendezvous, Jean contemplates whether they fit into eachothers lives. Set between S1 and S2</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jean Milburn/Jakob Nyman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Alone Together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jean turned in the gauzy noonday light with furrowed thoughts, staring at the blue shadows that Jakob’s hand made on her thigh. He was asleep, and a loud breather; not disruptive, but loud and sigh-like, and he was not holding her at all, except that his hand was still hitched on the skin of her thigh from where he stroked minutes ago. </p><p>The activity slowly tapered until it was nothing but grip, and now, as he slumbered, that grip loosened into simple weight. She stared at the dark lines of ink that ran alongside and across the veins protruding underneath the skin, and noted the ruddy swelling at his knuckles and nail beds, wondering if the metallic sheen of stuck-on residue against the forefinger was safe, since he had pinned her against the door and slid it between her as soon as they faltered into his house. </p><p>There, with his hand tightly wrung on her skin and the rest of him turned away with heavy, sleeping breaths, she felt his warmth radiate from his side of the bed and reached to touch the ink that crept up his thumb, which stretched across red specs between her legs, where her skin still burned from his stubble-scraped kisses, as did her mouth; her jaw; her neck.</p><p>At the touch, his breath hitched and her hand fled, hibernating on the dark linen that lay across her stomach. He curled his arm away, then rolled over to face the wall, his warmth retracting with him. </p><p>At first, she turned to fit her body against him and propped up on her elbow to face the mural of his back, but as the the cold air swirled and draped on her skin, she cut her eyes to the wardrobe, then the too-bright window; she could smell the metal now that their lovemaking dusked and her eyes flitted in annoyance.</p><p>They landed on a photo taped to the dusty lampshade. In it, both of his youngest daughters were squished together in a single chair with a large bowl covered with powdered sugar and turquoise icing, and she the youngest was licking the spatula. Below the lamp, a hairbrush rested on the nightstand, along with a gathering of hair-ties, lip balm, notes, earrings and pocket change hid the scratches on the wood, evidence of nights when his daughters flooded into the room.</p><p>“What time is it?” Jakob grogged. He reached as he rolled back to mindedly reclaim her leg while he awoke,and looked around with heavy blinks. </p><p>“Lunch,” she answered, coiling one hand over her the other and working over the bones beneath. He had accidentally rolled on her wrist, Immediately, he noticed, and flashed an aquitting smile. She furled away, and the bed bounced with her retreat.</p><p>“Are you going?” he asked.</p><p>“I think our work here is done.”</p><p>Jean sat up fully, dug at the bedding around her legs for her lost garments, and managed to free an airy black cloth from the folds. She sleeved her arms and shroud her breasts, then scrunched the sheets to the side to let the cloth pile between her closed legs, prompting his raised brows and the upward tilt of his chin as his gaze lifted from her legs to her eyes. </p><p>“I have known you only for a little while,” he began, propping up on his elbow to pillow his cheek with a fist, “but I’ve seen how you look when you are writing a book, and I know you have been thinking, hm?”</p><p>“An astute observation,” she quipped instinctively, allowing the hand he drifted down to pull her knee towards him while she fastened the tie on her black wrap. The long, split skirts fell off her skin and pooled around her naked hips. </p><p>“Yeah, I can observe. Astutely. What about?”</p><p>He slid his hand over her knee to coax her leg down, exposing her so that he could smooth up and down the flesh of her inner thigh, but when she did not open further, he fitted his hand into the pocket of her furthest knee and pulled both legs towards him.</p><p>“I know this sounds silly,” she purged, meeting his eyes, searching them before she fixed them on his chest, “but I still feel alone when I am with you. Like I’m out of bounds, like I’m newly aware of how lonely I have been, and how I want you to fill that gap and be closer, even when you’re right there. And I haven’t felt acutely aware of that in, well, a very long time.” </p><p>“I think we’ve both been alone for so long, we don’t remember what it is like to let yourself into the life of another person,” he said while he brushed her dress away to cosset her hip. </p><p>“It’s not just that. I mean, I’m a mother. I’m a writer, I’m a therapist. Those are the cores of my identity. I’m not used to being a,” she broke off, shaking her head in search of the term.</p><p>“Girlfriend,” he offered.</p><p>“Yes. I don’t know how to belong in your life and maintain mine, and I’m greatly concerned about how this sense of attachment makes me feel unstable and, somehow, even more alone.”</p><p>Silence filtered. He stopped his caress and looked down at the space between them.</p><p>“Are you feeling that way too?” she asked carefully. </p><p>“No,” he answered promptly, and locked on to her eyes while he sat upon his hand to rolled his back onto the bed frame, “but it's not dangerous or unusual. Our children still need us, even while they outgrow us, and feeling secure in our livelihoods is a part of that, so we find ourselves belonging in one place and trying to fit in another. We are alone, but we are still together.” </p><p>“Alone, together.” she repeated, lifting up to sit on her knees. Her hand landed on the lace wire lace of her bra, and she pulled it out and stretched to pile the lace on the nightstand.</p><p>“You know, I agreed a long time ago to only accept advice from my doctor and therapist. But you aren’t afraid at all, are you?” she said while she sat back on her knees, wrapping one arm around herself and fiddling her necklace with the other, ”To tell me what you think or to give me advice.”</p><p>Jakob folded his arms too, observing while she bit the charm on her necklace, and goading her with equal resolve to stay put, though he was plainly naked and she could see him stirring. </p><p>“I have two daughters who don’t want my advice, and that makes me afraid,“ he said through a laugh, and she brightened back, “but you are a beautiful, smart, sexy woman.  I am not giving you advice to teach you something new. I’m helping you remember what you already know.”</p><p>He won. She dropped her necklace, settled one hand on her collarbone with the other contracted beside her, and in the stillness, she held his gaze. A smile tangled softly in his eyes when she leaned in. His swallowing kisses lowered her down to her back, segued swiftly lower as he parted her legs, and in the heady afternoon light, he swallowed her there too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have not written a creative word in five years. Family trauma and tumultuous relationship stole a part of me that I am only just now recovering, so here I am, in the middle of a pandemic, with training wheels. I tried to keep this bare-boned for my purposes, so its simply written. I think it is especially important to offer others diversion in the middle of a crisis, so welcome to my little corner of the internet. I hope you enjoyed your stay.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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